Indian Wife in the Prison of Spring

Mansi looked at it. It was very modest and formal. High neckline, and a hem that ended well below the knees. Nothing revealing. But Mansi hadn't worn western clothes in years.

"I don't." she said.

"Then we should buy something like this for you."

"Oh no, please!" she protested. She would feel so uncomfortable in a western dress in public.

"I insist."

"No, Duttsahab, really, a sari is fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure."

Dutt shrugged and started walking with her. He had hoped to get her into the store and have her try on a few western clothes she might look even more gorgeous in. But he knew that it wasn't a great idea to push her. Not yet.

----

Any discomfort or second thoughts Mansi was having about continuing the arrangement with the charming old man vanished when she saw her daughter's eyes light up on seeing the new dresses. Pinky hugged her mother, said "I love you" multiple times, and tried on both dresses, admiring herself in the mirror. Amar wasn't home, or he might have asked how much the dresses cost. She could have given him an number and he might not have known the difference, although to a discerning eye, it was clear that they were expensive. Still, just to be on the safe side, after she put the dresses away, she told in a playful conspiratorial way,

"Don't tell papa about these dresses, ok? Keep it our little secret and maybe I will buy you some more."

"Ok mamma, promise." the little girl smiled. To her young brain, all that mattered was that she was getting new shiny things.

That evening, as was often the case, Amar arrived with a bunch of his friends for yet another one of their intellectual sessions. As Mansi toiled in the kitchen making them snacks, she kept thinking about her time with her two high society friends. When she was with them, she was the one being waited on by others, being offered delicious food and strange new drinks. But in this part of the life, she was like a servant for Amar and his buddies. She longed for another high society experience. But it wouldn't be for another week as Duttsahab had said.

She was lost in thought frying pakoras when Amar came in to put away empty cups.

"So Mansi." he said and stopped.

"Yes?"

"You didn't tell me what happened with your final job interview." he sounded a little judgmental. The tone set Mansi off.

"When was I supposed to tell you? You walked in with all your buddies without telling me first." she said angrily. And a little loudly.

"Shhh. Don't get upset. I just wanted to know what happened. Did you get the job?" Amar was taken aback. His wife did sometimes react testily, but he hadn't expected it now.

"Yes, I got the job."

"Okay, good. Congratulations."

Wanting to be supportive, he put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed it gently. Mansi was a little surprised. Firstly because Amar didn't really make such physical gestures too often. And secondly, it immediately made her think of earlier in the day when Dutt had done something similar. And she found herself comparing the two. How much taller and more manly the old man was, as opposed to her slim short husband.

That night, Amar again suggested that she sleep in a gown. The same routine was repeated. Mansi took a sleeping Pinky out to the living room. And soon, Amar got on top of her. This time, Mansi had even more trouble keeping Dutt's image from her mind. At almost touch and every gesture, her brain kept throwing up the charming old man's face. She kept remembering how his touch had felt. She kept feeling excited at these unexpected mental intrusions.

--

At the same time, Dutt and Reena were sitting at a hotel bar, discussing Mansi.

"The more time I spend with her, the more I see what you initially meant. She is dissatisfied but also repressed and fragile. And she seems very submissive by nature."

"That she is." Reena said. "I know women like this. All their lives, they have been told by men what to do - fathers, brothers, husbands. They have never developed the instinct to assert themselves. If you play it right, the whole game is very easy."

"So...I am meeting her next week. What should be my next step?"

"Hmmm...don't make the ultimate move yet. But push her out of her comfort zone. And try being more dominant."

"More dominant." Dutt nodded.

"Try pushing her into a situation where she is uncomfortable but has to comply to make you happy. And see how she reacts. If she protests vehemently, then don't push her more. But if you sense compliance, even reluctant, you are on track."

"Hmmm." Dutt nodded again.

--

"Another mojito, ma'am?" the waiter asked Mansi as he took her empty glass away.

"Thanks." she took the full glass, standing next to a cocktail table in the shade.

It really was a hot and humid day, and as Dutt had said, these people had organized the event on the roof deck. What were they thinking? This was Mumbai, not Simla. Mansi reached for her handkerchief from the purse and wiped her brow again as she sipped the cocktail. She liked the sweet-sour and mint-filled taste. And the rum used by the caterers was a very smooth one, so she did not feel the alcoholic flavor as much as she had with the champagne.

Dutt glanced at her from across the deck where he was talking to some bankers. He smiled as he saw her sip her third cocktail for the day. He was pleasantly surprised at his easily this innocent woman, who once hadn't even tasted alcohol, was enjoying cocktails in the middle of the day. He excused himself from the conversation and walked over to her.

"Humid, right?" he asked.

"Very!"

"I told you, Mansi, that a sari is not the appropriate attire for a scorching outdoor event like this."

"But that's all I wear." she shrugged, sounding a little buzzed.

"Look at those women." Dutt pointed to a couple of fresh MBA hires networking. "Don't they look comfortable?"

A couple of them were wearing elegant sun dresses and another one was in a formal skirt and blouse.

"Yes, but...I have never...I mean. I would feel so weird."

"You should not be ashamed of your body." Dutt said.

"I am not ashamed of my body." Mansi argued back.

"Then what's the problem? You should wear more western clothes. I am sure your husband would love that."

"My husband?"

"When my wife was alive, and we were younger, I often bought her skirts and shorts and nice western blouses and all." Dutt whispered naughtily. "It used to spice up things in the bedroom."

Mansi blushed a deep shade of red at the reference. Then she thought about what Amar would think if he showed up one day and found her in a short sun dress. Would it really make him more excited in bed? Or would he disapprove?

"Besides, you have such an amazing figure." Dutt pressed on. "Even in the sari, it is obvious. You're like a model or an actress. Or a sculpture."

He gently placed his hand on hers. Even in that hot weather, Mansi got tiny goosebumps at that touch. She was feeling a little flattered and also uncomfortable at the compliments about her figure. She was on her third drink on a mostly empty stomach. And over the previous week, she often found herself thinking about his touch, despite scolding herself about it.

"Please Duttsahab." she pulled her hand away after a few seconds. "You are embarrassing me."

"What is there to be embarrassed about? What did I say that was so wrong?" he said in a slightly hurt voice. "I am sure you must have heard such things from your husband all the time."

"Not...really." she said.

"You mean he doesn't shower you with compliments day in and day out?" Dutt said with exaggerated surprise.

"He is a different kind of man." Mansi laconically said. But she did find herself wondering why her husband never said such nice things.

"For what it's worth, Mansi." Dutt decided to take a small risk and gently stroked her left cheek with the back of his right fingers. "I think you are the most gorgeous woman here."

That made Mansi blush so much that she found herself rooted to her spot. Yet another gentle touch, yet another compliment.

"Thank you." she softly said after a few seconds.

"Anyway, I have to talk to a few more people." Dutt straightened and took a step back. "I see they are putting the food out. Why don't you serve us both a couple of plates and I will meet you at the dining tables over there?"

Before Mansi had fully come to terms with what had just happened, he had walked away. She saw that the spiffily dressed catering staff was indeed putting out a buffet of food in gleaming silver trays. She finished the mojito in three big sips and headed towards the buffet to serve food for her boss. Is that what he was, she asked herself, her boss? Or was there something more?

----

Dutt could sense that although Mansi was a little unnerved by his tender gestures, she wasn't explicitly rejecting him. By now, he had a good sense of what kind of a woman she was. A typical docile housewife with nothing exciting in her life. And based on what she said about her husband, it was obvious he was a geek completely immersed in academia, with little interest in treating his wife like a woman. Dutt was confident that with a little patience and by making the right moves, he would succeed in bedding this tender flower. But Reena was right. He needed to now push the envelope a little.

During lunch, they were joined by a couple of business executives whole talked shop with Dutt. Both were polite and courteous towards Mansi who seemed a little lost in thoughts. She was partly feeling drunk and partly confused about Dutt's gestures.

When they left the meeting and went to the car, not a word was spoken. But she noticed Dutt was standing a little closer to her than he usually would. And she noted that she didn't find it unwelcome. In fact there was a kind of exciting reassurance to his proximity.

"Let's go shopping." Dutt said as he got into the car.

"Maybe some other day. I need to get home." Mansi said.

"Nonsense. I know your daughter doesn't get home for a few hours." he said.

"Yes, but I need to do other household chores."

"You can do those later. Now, we are going shopping." he said firmly.

Mansi looked at him. This was a new side of the usually kind old man. She considered protesting a bit more. But then she decided, why not? She liked shopping. And nothing she had to do was very urgent.

"Okay." she meekly said.

Shortly, they were in a big clothing chain store in Worli. As soon as they walked in, Dutt got a call. He excused himself and answered it, taking care of a business. The call lasted almost fifteen minutes, so Mansi wandered away from him. It was a big store with three different floors. When the call got done, it took Dutt a little time to locate his young companion.

She was on the third floor, looking at children's clothes, which she loved doing. Just as he saw her, he was standing next to the women's western clothes section. he looked at a few of the dresses and mannequins.

"May I help you, sir?" a smart young saleswoman walked up to him.

"Yes, I need some nice dresses and skirts for...her." he pointed at Mansi who was busy looking at girls' frocks.

"Absolutely, sir. Do you know her size?"

"No, you can just go measure her."

Dutt turned around and started looking at the clothes on display, trying to decide what would look good on Mansi. A little while later, she was next to him, with the saleswoman next to her with a measuring tape in hand.

"Duttsahab." she said in a soft voice.

"Yes, Mansi?"

"Did you tell this lady that you want to buy clothes for me?"

"Yes." he said. "We were talking about it earlier. I think if you have to accompany me to such events, it would be good for you to have some western clothes."

"I am fine with saris." she diffidently said.

"You might be fine with saris. But I am not." he raised his voice a little and she was taken aback.

"Don't I get a say in it?" she asked.

"Tchh, don't create unnecessary drama, Mansi. You saw how those women were dressed. It won't kill you to own a couple of western clothes." he almost scolded.

"Fine." she said, sulking a little. She wasn't too used to arguing with authoritative men.

The saleswoman pulled out the tape and measured Mansi's waist, bust, and hips. She had overheard the entire conversation. She assumed that this young woman was the rich old man's mistress. And he seemed to be calling the shots. So once the measurements were done, she didn't ask the lady as she usually would, but turned to the old man.

"And what dresses would you like ma'am to try, sir?"

Dutt looked around at the clothes. He would have loved nothing more to have Mansi try on something sexy like a tube top or a mini skirt. But he didn't want to push her too much too soon.

"Let's try that pinstripe skirt suit."

"Very good, sir. Please come with me, ma'am."

Mansi walked obediently with the saleswoman who picked up the garments in her size and showed her the trial room. The store's manager, who had a keen eye for customers, recognized a millionaire when he saw one.

"How do you do, sir? Would you like something to drink while you wait? Tea, coffee, cold drink, beer?"

"Beer would be nice." Dutt said. And soon he was holding a big mug of imported German beer.

Dutt sipped the beer and felt like he had waited an eternity for the young housewife to return. After all, she had to take off her sari, petticoat, blouse, and try this unfamiliar clothing on. When she walked out of the trial room uncomfortably, the old man almost felt a twitch in his pants.

It's not like the dress was too revealing or anything. It was a very formal and elegant skirt suit, with the skirt ending slightly below the knees. She was wearing a formal blouse, fully buttoned up, and a jacket. But the fabric hugged Mansi's curves so well, that this was the first time Dutt got a look at how perfectly shaped her body was.

"Gorgeous, isn't it, sir?" the saleswoman asked in her best salesy voice. She was looking forward to a fat commission from this old guy.

"Beautiful!" Dutt agreed.

But Mansi felt very uncomfortable at the way the old man, beer in hand, was staring at her. She was squirming around a little, and said,

"I don't like it much. It seems very..."

"Turn around." Dutt simply said taking a big gulp.

And was delighted when she obeyed. The fabric accentuated her perfectly shaped buttocks even better than he had imagined. They always looked good in a sari, but thinking of them in such well fit contours was delightful.

"Hmm...not bad." Dutt said, doing his best to hide the excitement in his voice. Reena had told him to push Mansi out of her comfort zone. This was perfect.

Mansi was having a bizarre almost out of body experience as she saw herself in a nearby mirror. She could not believe how good she looked. But she also looked like a stranger. It was like watching someone else standing there in that skirt suit, turning around to show a man over twice her age her ass in the tight skirt.

"Should I pack it up, sir?" the saleswoman suggestively asked.

"Not yet. I'd like her to try on a few more colors and patterns."

"This is okay." Mansi tried to protest, but Dutt just waved his hand dismissively.

Why am I unable to say no to what this man is saying, Mansi asked herself in the trial room as she stripped off the pinstripe and tried a beige suit. I could and I should just put my foot down and say, no, I don't want to wear western clothes. He is like an employer, not her master or husband. But despite this mental soliloquy, she changed into the other suit and walked out.

For the next half hour, Dutt chugged beer and Mansi modeled different skirt suits for him. The more clothes she tried, the more comfortable she felt. And the more beer Dutt had, the bolder he felt.

"You don't shave your legs." he noted when she was on the fourth dress. Her perfectly shaped calves looked pretty, but they did have a thin covering of hair, which did not look good with the formal western clothing.

"Why would I?" Mansi asked, a little offended.

"From now on, if you want to wear these clothes, you will need to shave your legs."

Mansi dumbly nodded, and again wondered why she was letting herself be pushed around like this. The saleswoman was noting all this. It was clear to her that the young woman was some kind of a mistress. So when Mansi went to the trial room again, she walked up to Dutt discreetly.

"Excuse me, sir. I was wondering what you think of that dress?" she pointed towards a mannequin.

Dutt saw what she was pointing at. He had noticed it before. It was a tight red mini dress which ended halfway to the knee, was low cut, and had spaghetti straps.

"It might be a little too short for her tastes." he said.

"What about your tastes, sir?" she flirtatiously asked, hoping to maximize her commission.

"I don't think she will even try it on."

"She doesn't have to. I know her size well by now." the girl said. "You can gift it to her as a surprise some other time."

Dutt imagines the curvaceous young housewife in that dress and felt a twitch in his loins. He finished another beer and nodded.

"Alright, we'll get one."

--

Mansi sat in the car looking out the window, wondering why today had unfolded so differently from previous days. Duttsahab, usually so nice and polite, was ordering her around. It was technically true that she was his employee. And he paid her well. But still, it seemed like he was crossing some lines. What amazed Mansi was that she wasn't able to summon the will to say no to him. It's like he had a hold over her that went just beyond the money.

Next to her in the car was the bag of clothes. It had two formal skirt suits that Dutt had bought for her. The price had been so exorbitant, that she thought it would end up eating into her "salary" for a few more days. Dutt had a different bag by his legs, the one with the mini dress. Mansi hadn't asked what was in it and he hadn't told her.

He had downed a few beers in the store. In the limo, he opened another bottle and was sipping it as the car sped towards Borivali. They had been riding in silence since leaving the store. Suddenly, Mansi felt the bags next to her being moved. And Dutt's leg was touching hers. Before she knew it, the big bulky man's arm was on her shoulder. Again, despite herself, she felt a small thrill run up her body.

"What's wrong, Mansi?" Dutt asked in a slightly slurring voice, his face right next to hers. She could smell the beer on his breath.

"Nothing." she said, squirming a little, hoping that he would take his hand away.

"Are you upset?"

"A little."

"Why?"

"Could you...could you please move a little?" she uncomfortably said.

"Okay."

And he moved literally, just a little. He still had his arm around her.

"Don't you like me, Mansi?" he asked in a slightly sulky voice.

"I think you have had too much to drink." she said, finally raising her hand to move his hand away from her shoulder. He moved it so he wasn't touching her but his arm was still on the backrest behind her.

"I like you, Mansi. I like you a lot." he said.

"I like you too, Duttsahab." she felt compelled to say lest she seem rude and cold. And then added. "But as a friend."

"Yes, we are friends." he gently patted her shoulder and then moved away. "If you like, we could be something more. But only if you like."

"What do you mean by something more?" she nervously asked.

Dutt looked at her petrified face and thought carefully about what to say. He didn't want to proceed too fast and scare her away. At the same time, he did want to keep testing her comfort zone. So he started speaking, picking his words carefully.

"See, Mansi, I think you are a wonderful person. Very talented and smart with a lot of potential. But being born where you were and the life you have, the potential hasn't been tapped fully. But I can help. Haven't you find our time so far interesting and fun?"